


if i could fly

by bevioletskies



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: Scott’s freshman year in college is going like pretty much any other - his roommate is a little eccentric, he has a huge crush on the girl sitting next to him in his bioengineering lecture, and he absolutely can’tstandtheir professor. Meanwhile, Hope is just wondering when she can have a moment for herself, when to tell Scott that she knows and she feels the same way, and when he’s going to realize that she’s Dr. Pym’s daughter.





	if i could fly

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from the song [If I Could Fly](https://open.spotify.com/track/5CRVwXGikmqzoRO6q7FeAg?si=a06nDFZgRFCtWYZ3gEGE9g) by One Direction because I need to stop picking songs from before 1988. Also, this fic is slightly more of a Hope character study than a Scott/Hope fic, but they're still a very central part of the plot!

The moment that Scott and Hope met was... _memorable_ , to say the least - Scott practically fell right through the doors of the lecture hall, stumbled over his own feet, and stubbed his toe on the back row of seats. Every last person turned to look at him, because on top of everything else, he was ten minutes late (he blamed Luis for convincing him that he “didn’t need an alarm, man!”).

He sheepishly made his way down the stairs, scanning every row for an empty seat, his heart sinking when he realized the entire hall was at full capacity, save for one seat at the very front. He felt decidedly more optimistic once he laid eyes on the girl who would be sitting next to him. “Sorry,” he whispered, sliding past her to sit down. She merely huffed and waved him off. _Good start, Scott_ , he internally berated himself, and cracked open his textbook, quietly wondering if she already thought he was a completely hopeless case. Everyone went back to their own books and laptops, but he could still feel the professor’s eyes trained on him, judging him in stone-faced silence.

It wasn’t until they took a short break between lecture slides that Scott decided to try for a second first impression; if nothing else, he knew it would help to find an accountability partner for each of his classes (and _not_ one who told him he didn’t need to set an alarm, _Luis_ ). “Hey, I’m Scott,” he offered.

The girl turned to look at him, allowing for a far better look at her face - mid-length dark hair, inquisitive brows, and a piercing gaze, her eyes similar in their shade of hazel-green to his. “Hope,” she said shortly, turning back to her screen. “Dr. Pym _hates_ latecomers.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled sheepishly. “You’ve taken a class with him before?”

An odd smirk formed on her face, a quirk in the corner of her mouth that only intrigued him further. “Sure.”

“I read some pretty bad reviews of him, but he’s the only one who teaches some of the 300-level stuff I need. Wanted to get onto his good side early, but now it might be outta the question,” he continued, undeterred. “Any suggestions?”

“I know it’s bioengineering, but it’s not rocket science. Show up on time, do the readings, study for thirty hours a day. You _just_ might scrape by,” she drawled.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Scott said, leaning back in his seat with a grin. “And while you’re giving advice, where’s the best place to study on campus?”

Hope finally looked at him again, her eyes flickering briefly across his face; he felt like he was being evaluated for something, but what, he couldn’t be quite sure. “Main library, third floor, by the windows. I’m usually there on Sunday mornings by ten, since everyone else is still sleeping.”

He met her gaze, his smile spreading. “Good to know.”

Once class was over, Hope remained in her seat until the entire room was empty, save for Dr. Pym at the front, packing up his things. “Any potential takers, or were you too busy batting your eyelashes at the boy sitting beside you?”

Hope rolled her eyes, shutting her laptop with a snap. “Don’t patronize me, Dad, I can have a life outside of your recruitment program. Why don’t you offer internships like every other CEO-slash-professor?”

“Because I’m not _like_ other CEOs-slash-professors,” Hank insisted; Hope had to choke back her laugh at how absurd he sounded. “What, you think I’m going to stick just _any_ random intern in the Ant-Man suit? No!”

She clicked her tongue dismissively, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, and began making her way up the stairs to the exit. “If you ask me, Scott seems like the best choice.”

“For me, or for you?” he called. All he got in response was the loud _clunk_ of the doors swinging shut.

* * *

Hope was not one to be told what to do, and never had been. She’d been a stubborn child, a stubborn teenager, and despite her parents’ best efforts, became a stubborn young adult. Despite _Hope’s_ best efforts, however, she ended up following in their footsteps anyway, contrary to her bouts of teenage rebellion. She’d gone through her phases of wanting to be a veterinarian, a writer, a martial arts instructor, but ultimately found herself right back in the sciences under the loving tutelage of her genius parents. Still, now that she was in college, or more specifically, the college her parents taught at, she refused to tell people they were related. She had no intention of letting people immediately form opinions of her that she didn’t have control of. It didn’t help that Hank was constantly hovering over her shoulder like he didn’t already keep tabs on her phone’s GPS or put sensors in her car (which he didn’t know that _she_ knew about).

“Can you not let our daughter be a normal student without dragging her into another one of your schemes?” Janet had protested when Hank first brought up his recruitment plans. “Just _get an intern_ , Henry!”

Now, Hope sat at her favorite table in the library, drumming her pencil against its surface, considering all the things her father had told her to look for. Someone clever, hardworking, focused, adaptive. She couldn’t help but scoff at the last attribute he’d asked for - _in other words, someone who will listen to you no matter what_ , Hope had wanted to say. _Typical_. She wasn’t even sure why Hank was looking for a successor, given that he and Janet had retired from their other lives by the time she was sixteen, but she knew questioning him about it would only lead to another eventual shouting match. Nothing made him happier than finding something to be angry about.

“Hey.” She looked up, both startled and pleased to see Scott smiling back at her. “Fancy seeing you here. Mind if I join you?”

She gestured for him to take the chair across from hers. “Please,” she said, finding his grin infectious and returning it with a small one of her own. “Don’t tell me you’re already having trouble with the material.”

“Dr. Pym sure has some different ideas about what a ‘first week’ looks like,” he sighed, unloading what seemed like the entire contents of his book bag onto the table. “The guy’s smart, but someone’s gotta tell him to relax.” Hope’s brow shot up at the offhand comment - maybe it was a strike against Scott for Hank’s purposes, that he wasn’t capable of meeting his demands. For _her_ purposes, however, anyone who was willing to call out her dad’s... _quirks_ was a person worth getting to know.

She reached across the table for his workbook. “May I?” At his nod, she pulled it towards her, scanning across the pages. “For someone who’s complaining, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I like learning about this kind of stuff, it’s just his teaching style. Dude’s gotta lighten up,” Scott shrugged, though his cheeks warmed at her sort-of compliment. “Hey, I never asked, what’re you majoring in?”

“Biochem, minor in commerce,” she replied. “You?”

“Engineering,” he said, taking his workbook back from her. “So I guess we won’t see much of each other outside of some general sciences stuff.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she hummed. They exchanged somewhat shy smiles over the top of her laptop before resuming their work in comfortable, amiable silence.

Later that afternoon, she returned to the family townhouse - situated close to campus, where Hank and Janet (and now Hope) lived while they taught during the fall and spring semesters - with a slight spring in her step, feeling oddly optimistic. Hope had never put too much stock into relationships of any kind, preferring to focus more on herself, but she found Scott charming in a way she wanted to explore further. As for Hank’s intentions -

“Where have you been?”

“Really, Dad? What am I, seven years old?” Hope kicked off her shoes and hung up her jacket in the hall closet, deliberately keeping her back to him. “I was studying at the library, okay? Nothing scandalous.”

“Don’t give me attitude, Hope, it was just a question,” Hank grouched. “You got some time to join me in the lab? I have something to show you.”

“Fine,” she sighed, following him down into the basement suite, which Hank had transformed into a condensed version of his far more advanced laboratory at Pym Technologies. “What’s this about?”

Naturally, he didn’t answer, instead leading her to the back of the room where he kept all of his ant specimens. Hope tapped gently on the glass in greeting, and some of them wriggled their antennae back at her; she smiled, knowing it was really Hank who’d told them to. He then moved to knock on the back wall, a hollow metallic echo resonating back to them. Slowly, it slid open, revealing a glass display case behind it, illuminated so brightly that she could barely make out what was inside.

“Of _course_ you have a secret door - wait, is that...is that a new suit?”

Hope moved closer, all the dry wit in her tone gone, now replaced with wonderment in her eyes as she stared at the unfamiliar suit before her. She could tell by the shape of its chestplate and the width of its hips that it was for a feminine figure, but it didn’t look anything like her mother’s suit. It was a silver-gold unlike Janet’s red; it was sleeker, a little more modern in comparison. She turned to look at her father in disbelief.

Hank smiled. “Congratulations on getting into college, honey.”

Hope let out a quiet gasp, then flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Dad,” she breathed, tears forming in her eyes. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Long enough,” he said, sounding both world-weary and proud, and he wrapped his arms around her in return. “Hope, that’s why I wanted you to help find my successor. They’re going to be _your_ partner.”

She let go of him and stepped back. “What?”

“I know better than to pick for you,” Hank chuckled, rocking back on his heels. “Made the mistake of trying to tell you which extracurriculars to take when you were younger, and we all know how _that_ turned out. But this is important, Hope. For me, sure, but really, for _you_.”

She walked back up to the case, splaying her palm open against the glass, still starry-eyed. “Partner,” she repeated.

“So, did you find anyone yet?”

Hope thought back to half an hour ago when she’d left Scott in the library, how easy it had been to work and chat and laugh with him, how she wasn’t quite ready to leave when she did. Then she tried to picture him standing in her father’s lab, the two of them arguing over the schematics of the suit, or the formulas they used, or just _anything_ , really. She internally blanched.

“No, not yet.”

* * *

Sunday mornings at the library very quickly became a thing for Hope and Scott, where she stopped being surprised by his arrival (he made a point of promptly being there by ten) and he stopped needing to ask whether he could join her. He soon learned what her coffee order was, too, making a habit of bringing her a drink and a danish or donut, somehow always knowing which one she wanted every single time.

“Good memory,” he had shrugged when she asked him one time how he remembered she’d been craving something cherry-flavored, watching in astonishment as he deposited a small paper bag of a sugar-coated cherry strudel beside her laptop. Her first bite was more satisfying than she expected, trying not to make a show of it while he watched her with a sort of half-smile and a soft twinkle in his eyes.

Even stranger was the first time Hope ever saw Scott outside of the classroom or the library: at the on-campus gym, of all places, circling a punching bag. She took a moment to admire his arms (and silently criticize his footwork) before approaching him. “You really need to work on your form.”

He startled slightly at the sound of her voice, then laughed once he realized it was her. “Yeah, I’m not - I’m more of a runner type of guy, not a boxer. Didn’t know you were here, too.”

“I was over at the weight machines and I thought I saw a familiar face, though more sweaty than I’m used to,” she teased, walking around the bag so they were face-to-face. “I think you could use some advice.”

“You know this stuff?” he asked.

“I’ve been doing martial arts since I was eight,” she replied, shrugging easily.

“Didn’t know that.” He briefly bent to pick up his water bottle and take a long, generous swig; Hope briefly averted her eyes, not wanting to become too fixated on the way his throat moved while he did.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said instead, gesturing for him to follow her over to the mats. She then came to a standstill in the middle, holding up both of her hands so her palms were facing him. “Gloves off. Show me how to punch.”

“I was in - I mean, I know how to punch,” Scott hedged. She narrowed her eyes at his hesitation. Finally, with a sigh, he got into position, then threw a couple of punches, striking her hands half-heartedly.

“Terrible,” she said, lowering her arms, though she kept her tone light.

“You wanna show me how to - ” Scott let out a noise he wasn’t proud of as Hope knocked him right in the chest. He fell head over heels quite literally, stumbling backward over his own feet. “ _Oh_ \- ”

“You asked.” Hope put her hands on her hips, smirking at Scott’s half-impressed, half-terrified expression. “Come on, back to work.”

After an hour-long impromptu bootcamp, they were both drenched in sweat and sore to the bone, him far more so than her. On their way to their respective locker rooms, Scott decided to strip off his T-shirt entirely, causing several heads to turn their way. He grinned when he noticed Hope keeping her chin a little too high in the air, her eyes practically glued to the ceiling. “What’s up?”

“No one likes a show-off,” she huffed, disappearing into the women’s showers.

The two of them ended up going to a hole-in-the-wall dive that was about a five-minute drive outside of the university campus, the kind of place that Hope admittedly would have never tried herself, having spent her life going to restaurants with more than one crystal chandelier and waiters that had been calling her “ma’am” since she was five. She remembered sitting between her parents, tugging uncomfortably at the runs in her tights, barely able to follow the conversation happening with the executive or researcher or whoever happened to be their plus one for the night who sat across the table from her, occasionally cooing at her like she was a newborn baby. Scott, meanwhile, looked right at home sitting across from her on a scratched-up booth bench that had certainly seen better days, his arm thrown over the back, his other hand drumming out an offbeat rhythm on the table’s surface. There was a quiet confidence to him that she very much envied, the ease in the slump of his shoulders painting a stark contrast to the tightness in hers.

“So what don’t I know about you?”

Hope was taken aback. “What?”

“You said there’s a lot I don’t know about you, and I can’t _not_ ask after you say something like that,” he chuckled. “Like, what made you do martial arts as a kid? Why’re you majoring in science and minoring in business? What classes have you taken with Dr. Pym?”

She winced a little at the last one. “Why do you want to know?” she asked. “Is it because - ”

“Just curious,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “But if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s cool. I’ve got my secrets, too.”

“Really, because you seem almost _too_ transparent,” she said dryly. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, then regretted it instantly when she realized how sticky it was. “Martial arts is something my parents thought would be important for me to learn, I want to - ” _destined to, more like_ , she thought “ - work at a scientific research company, and Dr. Pym used to do summer workshops for high school students.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words, the words that she knew were half-truths at best, lies of omission at worst. Then: “I’ve been learning how to do close-up magic.”

“What,” she repeated, though flatly this time. He leaned in, his face startlingly close to hers, and she felt his fingers briefly brush against her earlobe before he triumphantly brandished a quarter in her face, his grin impossibly wide.

“I guess it’s not _really_ a secret, but I’m getting pretty good at it,” he said, taking her hand and unfurling her fingers so he could press the coin into her palm. His hands were warm, his fingers unusually calloused for someone who supposedly didn’t work with much more than a keyboard. Hope wanted to ask, but she wasn’t even sure _what_ to ask. She hadn’t exactly forgotten his comment earlier, either, whatever he was going to say before failing spectacularly at punching. Maybe his secrets were like hers - not shameful, exactly, just not something he wanted to talk about yet.

“I’m impressed.” She half-closed her hand around his, then leaned back so she felt like she could breathe again. “So is that just for fun, or...”

“You could say that.” He averted his eyes a little too quickly, finally sliding his hand away, back to his side of the table. “I’m still trying to figure out what kinda stuff I’m into, what I wanna do in like, life. I know, I know, it’s the most...typical college student stuff. But that’s what it’s all about, right? Figuring out who we are?”

“Going to the gym on a regular basis is definitely a good place to start,” she mused. “What else have you been doing?”

“Haven’t really had the chance to do much in the last three or so years,” he said mysteriously, resuming his drumming against the table. “And hey, I could use a personal trainer.”

Before Hope could reply, her phone went off. She glanced at Scott apologetically before looking down at her screen, groaning when she realized who it was. “Dad, I’m - no, I’m out right now, I can’t - I’ll be home - Dad, _seriously_ \- ”

While she talked, keeping her voice low and her mouth covered, Scott’s gaze wandered off around at the gaudy posters and neon signs, the leaky ceiling and the rusty window panes, before his eyes went back to her. Her hair was still somewhat damp, her brows were knitted together in clear frustration, and he could see the slight chipping of her fingernails, probably from the rough-and-tumble they’d had earlier. Scott wanted to take her hand again, to find some other magic trick or silly excuse that would allow him to do so without weirding her out. That is, he _hoped_ she wasn’t put off by what he knew was his sometimes strangeness, little things and moments of “immaturity”, as his ex had so nicely called it (and it _was_ nice of her, considering some of the things her current boyfriend had to say about him). He turned away when she started to hang up, certain that his face felt just the slightest bit warmer than it had a moment ago.

“Is he expecting you home right now?” Scott asked once she pocketed her phone. “If you have to go - ”

“I’m just fine where I am,” Hope said shortly, though her expression softened once their eyes met again. “What were you saying about a personal trainer?”

“Well, if you’re up to spending _more_ time with me…” He trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she teased, grinning. Once more, they found themselves exchanging promising glances, barely breaking eye contact, even when their waiter came around with a plastic basket of oily nachos.

* * *

“So, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not - well.”

They were about two months into the semester, with the weather gradually getting colder and crisper, and classes getting progressively harder and deceptively longer. Scott and Hope were bundled in their thickest coats and walking across campus together, coffee and buttery pastries in hand, on their way to Hank’s class. It had become routine for them, to the point where Scott’s roommate teased them every time she dropped by their dorm.

“Hey, Hope,” Luis would say with a knowing grin. Then he’d turn into the room and call, “Scotty, your girl’s here to walk you to class!”, much to Scott’s embarrassment. Ruddy-cheeked, he would always push past Luis and mutter unintelligibly under his breath, then gesture for Hope to follow him far, _far_ away.

“Luis and I actually knew each other before coming here,” Scott said. Strangely enough, he seemed to be avoiding her eyes. “We, uh, we met in jail?”

Hope stopped in her tracks. “Is that a question?” she said shortly, her breath stuck in her throat, fearing the absolute worst. “What were you in for?”

“Theft,” he admitted. She internally exhaled, though she remained wary. “Few months after graduating high school, my girlfriend got pregnant. I was doing an internship at a security company to save up for college, and then, y’know, the baby. All I saw were these guys in nice suits, bragging about vacation homes, golf scores, the usual. But then I heard ‘em talking about screwing over their customers, skimming money from their accounts. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to steal it back. Got caught, dumped, thrown into prison - in that order. I was let out early on good behavior, but if I wanna meet my daughter, my ex says I gotta prove that I’ve changed.”

Hope fiddled with the sleeve of her coffee cup, wearing away at the thin cardboard until the edges began to fray. “...oh.”

“I just didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else,” Scott continued, shooting her a strained smile. “I wanna be there for my daughter, I wanna be a good person. Honest, reliable...all that.”

She cleared her throat, giving him a small smile of her own. “What’s her name?”

“Cassie,” he said quietly.

“That’s a pretty name.” Her eyes dropped to the lid of her coffee cup for a moment, contemplating. “From what I can tell, Scott, you’re already honest. You just need more focus. Once your ex sees that, how badly you want to see Cassie...it’ll happen.”

“I sure hope so,” he said, his eyes softening. “Thanks for, uh, for hearing me out.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Hank’s class was the usual long-winded lecture, filled with convoluted definitions and complex equations. Near the end, he handed back one of their reports before dismissing them. Hope immediately had to stash hers in her bag the moment she laid eyes on it, realizing he’d written _excellent work, proud of you_ at the top of the front page, right next to her A-grade. Hank had never been one to express sentiment through writing (Janet had once shown Hope the love letters he’d written to her when they were young; they both had a good laugh at his earnest, but ultimately poor attempts), and it made her tear up a little at the last three words. Still, she didn’t want Scott to see. Scott looked confused at her erratic behavior, but merely grinned his easygoing grin and said his goodbyes, once again leaving her alone in the lecture hall with Hank.

“You’re getting pretty close to Lang, aren’t you?” he commented, eyeing her knowingly.

“We’re friends,” she replied tightly. “You don’t have to punish him for whatever imaginary rivalry you’ve got going in your head, by the way. I’ve seen the marks you’ve given him. He’s smarter than you literally give him credit for.”

“You know, I just can’t tell if you want him to be your partner or not,” Hank scoffed. “You’ve told me about his many supposed good qualities - his intelligence, memory, agility - and yet you _also_ tell me you _haven’t_ found anyone - ”

“I just _haven’t_ , okay?” Hope interrupted. “Just - Dad, can you _please_ just let me live my life, separate from yours?”

“Then why did you enroll in the very school that your mother and I work at? Why didn’t you go clear across the country like every other teenager?” Hank retorted, folding his arms across his chest.

“Sometimes, I really don’t know.” With that, Hope turned and stormed out of the lecture hall in a huff, some of her residual childish temper still lingering inside. Hank stood there, staring after her with the same fire in his eyes, simultaneously loving and hating the fact that she’d turned out to be a little too much like him.

* * *

Hope found herself spending more time in the gym or Scott’s dorm room than her family’s townhouse as the semester dragged on, avoiding her father’s stern looks and her mother’s placating smiles. She knew she was being immature about the whole ordeal, but it was hard not to feel stifled and cornered into bursts of anger when it seemed like they were constantly sitting on her shoulders. Something about seeing all the other college students going around campus, getting to truly be themselves for the first time, made her burn with a quiet envy she didn’t realize she had.

“I know it sounds like the dumbest thing to complain about, but I’m so sick of my parents always... _being_ there,” Hope admitted one afternoon while she and Scott were sprawled across his tiny bedroom floor, lazily making their way through their homework. After he’d opened up about his time in jail, she wanted to return the favor and tell him more about herself, though she still tried to keep it as vague as possible. “It’s not like I want them gone or anything, but sometimes I wish it was like when I was little, and they’d go on business trips out of the blue. I’d be at home with a sitter for weeks at a time, wondering if they’d ever come back. Now, I...almost want that distance again. Just enough so I don’t feel like I have to live up to something.”

Scott hummed thoughtfully, his head tilted in a way she somehow found more charming than cloying. “Have you told them how you feel? I’m sure they’d wanna know if they were pressuring you, they sound like good parents.”

“If you knew them, you’d know it isn’t that simple,” she sighed.

“Can I? Meet them, I mean,” he added.

She quirked an eyebrow. “And...why do you want to meet my parents, exactly?” Scott could only look at her dumbfoundedly, as if he’d just realized the weight of what he was asking for. Hope smiled, shuffling closer to rest her elbows on top of his knees, her bright-eyed gaze meeting his. “Is it because - ”

Scott kissed her before she could finish her sentence. She let out a startled noise before returning the kiss, pleased that she hadn’t been imagining things, that it wasn’t just her wishful thinking that he’d been offhandedly flirting with her for the past few months.

 _Knock knock_. “Hey, Scotty - ” before either of them had time to react, the door swung open to reveal Luis standing there with a plastic bag overloaded with takeout containers “ - whoa, what’s going on?”

Scott broke the kiss first, shooting her a faux-stern look. “Really, Hope? I thought we were here to study and then you go around kissing me like that, honestly - ”

“You are so full of shit, Scott,” she retorted without missing a beat, half-sighing and half-laughing in exasperation. She moved to gather up her things from around the room, pointedly keeping her back to Luis, who was snickering behind his hand. “I should get going, I promised my mom I’d hang out with her tonight.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you out,” Scott called as she swept past him. He got to his feet and grabbed his room key, then turned to fix Luis with a pointed stare. “ _Dude_.” Luis merely shrugged, chuckling, and sat down at his desk like nothing had happened.

“I mean it, I have to get going,” Hope said, though she was still waiting for Scott while he closed the door behind him. “Mom’s probably waiting for me.”

“Sorry about, y’know, him,” Scott said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. The two of them quickly fell into step like they always did, walking down the hall to the building doors. “I meant it, though. I haven’t really had a relationship with my parents since I got sent to jail, so...it’d be cool to meet yours. And…‘cos of the other thing.”

“Someday,” she hummed noncommittally. “And the ‘other thing’? I’m not sure what you mean. I thought we were here to study.”

“ _Now_ who’s full of it?” he grinned, coming to a stop right in front of the exit. He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers; she was the one to close the gap this time. “Have a good time with your mom.”

“Have a good time with your...Luis,” Hope said, smirking in the way he adored, and she disappeared through the doors. Scott stood there for a moment longer just to chuckle to himself, shaking his head in awe, before returning to his room.

Once Hope returned home, she quickly changed into her workout clothes and went down into the other half of the basement suite - the makeshift gym - to find Janet already there, working with the speed bag. It was one of their rare nights alone together since Hank was doing a talk at a conference two towns over. According to a string of text messages he’d sent them both, it was ‘one of the most inane things’ he’d ever done and reportedly made him miss the days of endless bureaucratic SHIELD meetings. “Sorry I’m late,” Hope said by way of greeting.

“That’s alright. You have a good time with Scott?” Janet asked, stopping to grin at her daughter.

“Don’t,” Hope sighed. “I already get enough of that from Dad, I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Speaking of your father...I told him to stop asking you about that whole partner thing, and...he agreed.” Janet nodded at Hope’s surprised expression. “You don’t need that going on during your very first semester of college. You’ve already got plenty to worry about.”

Hope smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t want you guys to think I don’t want this, you know I’ve been wanting my own suit my entire life. But...this isn’t just something I can ask of someone out of nowhere. And I need someone who can be _my_ partner, not his. I need time.”

“I know, jellybean,” Janet said, her voice soft. “Even then...you just focus on yourself, alright?”

“Easier said than done,” Hope sighed. “Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I _should’ve_ just gone to school somewhere else. Make my life my own for a little while instead of getting angry at you both for...well, for being good parents.”

“Oh, Hope…” Janet removed her gloves entirely so she could properly wrap her arms around her daughter, bringing her in for a tight hug. “We are _so_ proud of you already, you have to know that. We don’t need you to be perfect, we just need you to be yourself. And if you need some space so you can do that, _take it_ , okay? No matter what your father says.”

“You know he wouldn’t like it if I left,” Hope chuckled, burrowing her face into Janet’s shoulder. “Both of you would be calling me every single day.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Janet chuckled. “But seriously, jellybean, promise me you won’t be worrying about what _we_ think. Let it be about you.”

Hope’s smile broadened, and she stepped back to meet her mother’s gaze, bright and wise and warm. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I will.”

* * *

Another week went by, then two, then a few more, and suddenly, it was the day before Scott and Hope’s last final, which happened to be for Hank’s class. They were studying in the library, occasionally looking up to exchange warm smiles before returning to their notes, Scott playfully nudging Hope’s foot underneath the table every now and then, basking in the comfortable silence.

Then: “So, my ex called today.”

Once again, Hope found herself caught by surprise. “Oh?”

“We made a deal,” Scott continued, flipping the page of his textbook, making a point of not lifting his head to meet Hope’s steely-eyed gaze. “If I get at least Bs in all my classes and get a job or an internship or something in the next six months, I can see Cassie as often as I want.”

“That sounds reasonable. You’re getting _As_ in all of your classes, Scott,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s the job thing I’m worried about. You know how hard it is for ex-cons to find work? _Especially_ for a guy who got jail time for messing with his last workplace?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I wanna be responsible, I wanna be there for her, but...I’m basically screwed.”

Hope chewed her bottom lip in deep thought, guilt beginning to settle a little too comfortably in the pit of her stomach. The solution was right there, right in front of her face, while Scott was completely unaware there even _was_ a solution to be had. Part of her wanted to be selfish, to keep Scott to herself, to not let her parents take over yet another aspect of her life. All she could think about was Scott’s irritation with Hank’s personality and Hank’s vitriol for Scott’s...existence. At the same time, considering how things were going, the tip-toeing progression of their relationship that was moving (in her opinion) at just the right pace, he _was_ going to find out eventually, wasn’t he?

“I can get you a position at Pym Technologies,” she finally said, closing her laptop so she could look him straight in the eye. “When can you start?”

“Wait, what? How? Dr. Pym didn’t say anything about internships - ”

“Neither did I. And he’s been looking for a while now, he just didn’t want people to know.”

Scott’s brow furrowed further. “Then...how did _you_ find out about it?”

Hope sucked her breath in between her teeth. “I’m his daughter.”

Scott’s mouth almost comically dropped open, gaping at her like a fish. Just as quickly, his jaw then clicked shut, clenching tight. Hope had never seen his eyes grow so cold; she shivered. “Hope.”

“Scott, I - ”

“Hope,” he repeated. “Come on, why didn’t you tell me? All semester, I’ve been talking so much crap about Dr. Pym, and this whole time you’ve been listening to me, and, and...and _lying_ to me?” She glanced briefly over his shoulder to see students at the other tables beginning to turn and stare at them, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I know it was wrong, okay, and for that, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “But...you have to know _why_ I did it, Scott. I’ve spent my whole life being told that my parents are geniuses, and that I have to live up to those expectations and be one myself. I have to be well-rounded but focused, social but disciplined, all these... _things_ that eventually became too much for me. I’m better at balancing all those things now, but I still wanted just one thing to be my own, and...I wanted it to be you. I didn’t want you to think anything of me because of them, but...I guess I was the only one who didn’t think this through. It was selfish. _I_ was selfish.”

“No, it’s not - ” Scott inhaled sharply, then reached across the table to take her hand and give it a brief squeeze. “ - it’s not selfish, I mean, I get it. I didn’t want you to know about my criminal past for sort of the same reason. First impressions, right? Having all these ideas about a person before you _actually_ get to know them.” He smiled in the sort of crooked way that made her let go of the breath she didn’t realize she was still holding. “So uh, were you serious about that Pym Tech internship thing?”

Hope chuckled, simultaneously burnt out from worry and relieved by Scott’s easygoing acceptance. “Just like that, huh?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “And at least it explains why Dr. Pym seems to side-eye me more than anyone else. I didn’t think I was doing _that_ bad.”

She smiled, her shoulders finally relaxing, and glanced down briefly to their still-intertwined fingers. “It might be a little more...involved than you might expect, but I think you can handle it. Also, I _never_ said it was an internship.”

* * *

Hank’s final went about as smoothly as expected, which was to say it didn’t go smoothly at all. The problem wasn’t the test itself; both Hope and Scott were diligent students with a good understanding of the material, but there was a tension in the lecture hall that hadn’t existed before. Scott took one look at Hank, now having mentally labelled him as Hope’s father, and it made him more nervous than the essay questions ever would.

“Something wrong, Lang? Your eye is twitching,” Hank observed while he distributed the test papers.

Scott gave him an awkward double thumbs-up. “All good here.” His voice was at least an octave higher than its usual pitch. Hope held back her usual eye-roll.

After their exam was over, Scott went back to his dorm room to sleep off his post-finals week exhaustion, but not before giving Hope a brief kiss while Hank was packing up his bag. “Hey, good luck,” he murmured. “You got this.”

Hope squeezed his arm in return, enjoying the fact that she didn’t even have to turn her head to know what Hank’s expression looked like. “I know I do,” she replied quietly, smirking.

The car ride back to their townhouse was silent - for once, Hope had allowed Hank to drive her to and from class instead of taking her own car - save for the college radio station, where the monotonous host droned on about the last stretch of the semester. It was only when they arrived that Hank wordlessly gestured for her to follow him into the basement laboratory. She winced in anticipation of what was to come.

Hank opened the secret wall once more, calling the display case forward, and Hope went to stand by his side. It took her a moment to realize there was another mannequin on the other side of the glass, this one donning a masculine suit with similar design lines and detailing to match hers, but rendered in her father’s preferred red-and-black color scheme. Goosebumps went up her arms as she stepped closer, the glass sliding open so she could gently run the tips of her fingers across the material of her own suit. It was then that she could truly feel how solid it was, how real her childhood fantasy had become. “So...what do you think?”

She turned to look at him. “They look amazing, Dad. But I really need to talk to you about something.”

“So do I,” Hank sighed, sinking down into his chair. “Hope, I...realize that I may have been pushy about you finding someone to work with. I know we’re not exactly on the same page about the progress of your...let’s call it your career, shall we?”

Hope smiled. “Let’s. And _I_ know that you and Mom mean well, and I don’t want you thinking I’m not grateful for everything you guys have done for me. But...I don’t want to end up resenting you both for making my life fit into yours.”

“We just want what’s best for you, Hope,” Hank protested. “And you’ve proven yourself over and over again. It’s why I made the suit.”

“I get that.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, reaching across to rest her hand on his knee. “I’d just like it if my life was my own sometimes, or else I’m going to be left wanting. Wondering what it could be like.”

He went silent for a moment, contemplating. Then, he placed his hand over hers. “You know I’m no good at this kind of thing,” he said gruffly. “But tell me what we can do.”

“Trust me?” It came out more of a question than a statement. She cleared her throat. “And I mean _really_ trust me to make my own choices.”

“I do,” Hank said automatically. When Hope fixed him with a look, he also coughed, leaning back into his seat. “More than you think. And if this is about your taste in partners - ”

“ - I don’t need to explain myself to you,” she interrupted, her voice hard. “I’m not a child anymore, Dad. If I bring him here to put on the suit and train with me, I need you to respect him _and_ our relationship.”

He held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I hear you. But I’m glad to hear you’ve made your decision.”

“I wanted to keep him away from you,” she admitted, finally withdrawing her hand. “I wanted my college experience to be just like anyone else’s, and I didn’t want to pull him into our world when he’s been one of the most normal things about _my_ world that I’ve ever had. But I would’ve just been delaying the inevitable, and...I _really_ want to put on that suit.”

Hank laughed, getting to his feet and gesturing for her to follow. “I know you do. Why do you think I’ve been working on it for so long?” Hope smiled, standing as well and moving to wrap her arms around him. He hugged her in return, pressing a kiss into her forehead. “You’re really running things around here these days, aren’t you? Just like your mother. Too damn clever and stubborn for your own good.”

“Always,” Hope replied, grinning.

* * *

“Is the blindfold really necessary? I feel like I’m gonna trip.” As if on cue, Scott’s foot slipped out from under him; Hope caught him by the waist before he could fall any further.

“Dad’s the kind of paranoid who thinks the neighbors steal our mail, do you really think he’d be okay with you entering his lab without one?” she drawled, straightening him up. “Just a few more steps.”

Once they reached the bottom, Hope briefly let go to type in the code on the door’s keypad, her heart thumping wildly against her ribcage with anticipation. The door slid open to reveal Hank and Janet sitting by one of the worktables, poring over blueprints for a new model of the quantum tunnel. They both looked up at the sound of Scott and Hope’s footsteps.

Hope helped Scott remove his blindfold, watching him blink blearily into the light, squinting, before his eyes landed on her parents. He blanched slightly. “Dr. Pym...Miss Van Dyne, it’s so nice to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake, though he nearly tripped over his own feet in doing so. Hope nudged him upright with her shoulder. “Hope talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I assume,” Janet beamed, getting to her feet so she could return the gesture. “She’s briefed you on what’s going on around here, right?”

“NDA and all,” Scott said, laughing awkwardly. “I also read up about you guys after she told me. Really impressive stuff.”

“I hope it wasn’t just my reviews on that professor rating website,” Hank grouched, though he motioned for them to join him at the display case, which had remained in full view since his conversation with Hope from a few days ago. It was the weekend after exam week was over, and the Pym-Van Dynes had spent the last couple of days mulling over Hope’s decision, weighing the pros and cons of bringing, in Hank’s words, an “inexperienced civilian” into their fold, eventually agreeing that a quick background check, typical of any normal employer, would do the job (Hope drew the line at trying to contact his family as references, though; she got the impression that his parents would have nothing but thinly-veiled insults to offer). Scott had spent the last couple of days sleeping.

“Oh, wow…” Scott was speechless as he approached the glass, his starry-eyed expression reminiscent of Hope’s. “This is so cool. It’s like a, a motorcycle suit or something.”

“It’s not - ” Hank cut himself off with a huff. “It’s for you, Scott.”

“Really?” Scott turned to look at Hank. “Can I try it on?”

“Not yet, we have to measure you and make some adjustments,” Janet piped up, pointing toward a small platform for him to stand on. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Scott grinned, hopping up with all the enthusiasm of a child getting to try on their Halloween costume for the first time. Janet went to grab her measuring tape and tablet, while Hope smiled up at Scott, the discomfort in her stomach slowly ebbing away. Hank still looked as sour as ever, but Hope spotted a twitch in the corner of his mouth that suggested maybe, just maybe, this was going to work.

A few hours later, after Hank and Janet had rattled through what Hank called the introductory course to, among other things, Pym Particles and the Ant-Man suit, Scott and Hope sat on the living room couch together, watching a movie, while they waited for her parents to finish preparing dinner for the four of them.

Hope soon noticed Scott seemed to be sending off a series of texts, though she bit her tongue before her curiosity could get the best of her. “Thank you,” she murmured instead, gently prodding his leg with her toe.

“Of course,” he said, immediately pocketing his phone. He turned to fully face her and propped his elbow up on the back of the couch, tilting his head down somewhat so their foreheads brushed. “Hey, this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. This is gonna be awesome.”

“I’m glad it’s that simple for you,” she replied, mirroring his movements; their elbows met in the middle. “It’s going to be a _lot_ of work, Scott.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But it feels like the right thing to do. I really needed this, after all the crap that’s gone wrong in my life. A chance to prove myself.”

“You’ll have plenty,” she promised. Then, she couldn’t help herself, finding her gaze flickering to his phone; she could see its screen lighting up over and over again, silently chiming in with more notifications. “What’s going on there?”

“Maggie, my ex,” Scott said, sitting up so he could pull it out of his pocket. “I told her I got a job, she’s been bugging me with questions ever since. Told her I’d tell her more later, once your dad gets me up to speed on what I can and can’t tell people.” His grin broadened. “She _did_ send me a couple pictures of Cassie, though. Wanna see?”

Hope nodded almost shyly, her heart melting when Scott turned the screen in her direction. “Oh, Scott, she’s adorable.” It was a series of photos of a little three-year-old girl in a high chair with the biggest, roundest brown eyes Hope had ever seen, grinning toothily at the camera, the majority of her face covered in chocolate cake. “It’s a good reminder - you’re doing this for her.”

“And for me,” he added, tucking his phone away. “And...a little bit for you.”

“Is that so?” she teased, leaning in closer once more. “Just a little bit?”

“Teeny...tiny...ant-sized bit,” Scott whispered, bringing his mouth to hers. Hope groaned, though both of them shook a little with silent laughter as she pulled him in closer, winding her arms around him until their legs were fully intertwined, him pressing her into the couch. Much to Hank’s chagrin, she barely moved to break the kiss when he entered the room and cleared his throat.

“When you two are finished, dinner’s ready,” he said tightly, then turned on his heel and walked right back into the dining room. Hope finally pulled away so she could laugh into Scott’s shoulder, delighting in how pink his face had gotten (though he didn’t look too ashamed of himself, either). Yes, it was more than a maybe; things were going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I love a good ol' college AU, and getting to do some character exploration of what Hope would be like if her parents were around for her entire adolesence was pretty interesting! And, of course, writing overly-confident, kinda-awkward flirting between these two is one of my favorite things about the Scott/Hope dynamic. I _think_ I'm starting to get the hang of the Ant-fam's characterization?
> 
> You can read this fic on [tumblr](https://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/183973841634/if-i-could-fly) if you'd like! Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)


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